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SAFE HOME; 



OR THE 



fast S^iis an^ l^ipB Seatlj 



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FAKNIE KEXYON. 



-^" 



•*3IeET me in my new home, which is in HEAV«pf,"^0'' 



Page i7-.,- V 






BOSTON: ^ 
aOULD AXD LINCOLN, 

59 WASHINGTON STREET, 

1858. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 

GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

in the Clerk's OflB.ce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



Electrotyped and Printed by 
W. F. DRAPER. ANDOVER, MASS 



Iittrohtdioii. 



The following j^.^g^s were written 
by Mrs. Stoddaed, a lady of this city, 
Avho, for many months, was daily con- 
versant with the christian child whose 
brief earthly history they illustrate. It 
was her privilege to watch the dawn and 
growth of her piety, to minister at her 
bedside during the days and nights of her 
illness, to listen to her last words of hope 
and faith, and, when the closing scene 
was over, to be cheered in her sorrow 
by the thought of one who had grown 



Z'^ 



VI 



INTRODUCTION. 



SO dear to her as at length safe home 
forever in heaven. The memoirs here 
gathered together of this young disciple 
were originally written only for private 
circulation, and ^esj)ecially with the hope 
that they might be the means of good 
to the Sunday school in this city to 
which she had belonged; and to this 
end the manuscript was put into my 
hands, as the su23erintendent of that 
school. The result has fully answered 
the hope that was cherished. The chris- 
tian example delineated in these pages, 
and the christian words they utter, have 
come with blessing, not only to that 
Sunday school, but to others, in which 
they have been the subject of conver- 



INTRODUCTION. VII 

sation and instruction; and, in several 
instances they have already been sancti- 
fied to the awakening and conversion of 
souls. It is with the conviction that 
these memoirs have thus been blessed 
of ^God that they are now j)ublished, and 
hopefully cast forth into a wider sphere 
of usefulness. Even the humblest spir- 
itual means may, by the divine blessing, 
achieve great and glorious ends; and 
this infant saint, so early taken away 
from earth, may yet, by her faith, speak 
words of spiritual life to many souls, and 
be a ministering angel to many who shall 
be heirs of salvation. Let us hoj^e and 
believe, that in God's ways, which are 
not as our ways, this plant which our 



VIII 



INTRODUCTION. 



heavenly Father had planted, and which 
seemed to have been cut off in the bud, 
may, by and by, be clearly seen to have 
borne abundant fruit, — that a human 
life, to our now imperfect vision, all un- 
finished and incomplete, may, by the 
revelations of another world, be seen to 
have fulfilled all the great ends of its 

being. 

J. L. LINCOLN. 



Brown University, Providence, 
September, 1858. 



^^__ 



PBEFACE, 



As it was my privilege to min- 
ister to the spiritual wants of the 
sainted child who forms the sub- 
ject of the following narrative^ I 
have felt it my duty^ at the re- 
quest of her Sabbath school teacher 



and other friends^ to commit to 



PREFACE. 



paper some account of her relig- 
ious exercises before her sickness 
and during her last hours, hoping 
that, through the blessing of the 
great Shepherd, other tender lambs 
may be drawn by her own sweet 
invitation unto Him, and gathered 
into His fold. 



M. s. 



Providence, Sept., 1858. 



CONTENTS. 



Ujjkr |irst. 



MY FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH FANNIE — HER FAVO- 
RITE ROOM IN OUR COTTAGE HOME— HER PARENTS, 
AND HER PIOUS INTEREST FOR THEM, 



n ^ttm)j. 



FANNIE'S LOVE FOR HER BIBLE, FOR RELIGIOUS BOOKS, 
AND FOR CHRISTIAN SOCIETY — THE YOUNG CON- 
VERTS' MEETING — THE SUNT) AY SCHOOL CONCERT — 
FANNIE'S PRAYERS FOR OTHERS— HER LOVE FOR 
HER SCHOOLMATES. 



XII CONTENTS. 



€]mUt %\xx)i. 



PAIJNIE'S ILLNESS — HER SABBATH READING OF THE 
SAVIOUR'S SUFFERINGS AND DEATH, AND THE CON- 
VERSATION ABOUT THEM — ENCOURAGEMENT TO SUN- 
DAY SCHOOL TEACHERS. 

€\n^Ut imxt\, 

FANNIE'S LOVE FOR THE SUNDAY SCHOOL — HER JOY 
AT THE GIFT OF A BIBLE — HER MEETINGS WITH 
CHILDREN — THE FAMILY BIBLE AND THE RECORD 
TO BE PUT IN IT. 



UT^Ux liftlj. 



FANNIE IS ILL AGAIN, AND IS TAKEN FROM SCHOOL — 
TALKS WITH HER MOTHER ABOUT DYING — BEGS ME 
TO COMFORT HER MOTHER, WHEN SHE IS GONE — 
*' THY WILL BE DONE " — HER JOY AT THE PROS- 
PECT OF HEAVEN — HER DESIRE FOR MORE FAITH. 



CONTENTS. XIII 



n^tu Skt§. 



THE ''NEW TENEMENT," AND THE "NEW JERUSALEM" 
— THE BEAUTIFUL ANGEL, AND THE ANSWER TO 
PRAYER — SUBMISSION TO GOD'S WILL — FANNIE'S 
DESIRE THAT HER DEATH MAY BE BLESSED TO 
CHILDREN — HER MESSAGES TO HER SUNDAY SCHOOL 
TEACHER AND CLASS — BIBLE READINGS WITH FAN- 
NIE. 

€\mux Stijtiiti]. 

FANNIE'S BODILY SUFFERINGS, AND MENTAL JOY — 
SHE FAILS RAPIDLY — BEGS HER MOTHER TO BE 
WILLING TO GIVE HER UP — MY LAST CONVERSA- 
TION WITH FANNIE — RECOGNITION OP FRIENDS IN 
HEAVEN, AND THE RESURRECTION. 

FANNIE SENDS HER PLAYTHINGS TO A LITTLE FRIEND, 
WITH MESSAGES — THE WEEPING CHILDREN, AND 
THE FLOWERS — FANNIE'S LAST WORDS — HER 
DEATH. 






XIV 



CONTENTS. 



€I]jigttr Uint|* 



THE FRIENDSHIP OF CHRISTIAN CHILDHOOD, AKD ITS 
LESSORS — FAITNIE'S DEATH, IN ITS I2fFLUEIf CE UPON 
CHILDREN. 



t fast Snnh 






9q- 






SAFE HOME. 



^Ux |irst» 



MY FIRST ACQUAI^•TA^■CE "WITH FA^•^'IE — HER FAVO- 
RITE ROOM IN OUR COTTAGE HOME— HER PARE^'TS, 
AKD HER PIOUS INTEREST FOR THEM. 



I BECAME acquainted witli Fannie 
Kenyon during tlic spring of 1352, at 
wliich time I occupied Tvith her Tvid- 
owed mother a small cottao:e. At our 
first acquaintance, I was struck Avitli 
the expression of deep solemnity that 
rested upon her countenance, and also 
Avitli the sweetness of her manners. 
She seemed to liave a preference for 






x^ 

16 S A F E H O M E , 



one of my rooms, and often sat there 
for hours together, apparently wrapped 
in deep thought, sometimes expressing 
to me tlie fear, that as she loved the 
room so well she might intrude upon 
our kindness by coming too often. I 
assured her that I loved to have her 
with me, and that she was welcome to 
occupy it whenever she pleased. She 
told me one day it was the room her 
dear father occupied during his sick- 
ness, and in which he breathed his last. 
Giving me at that time an account of 
his sufferings and death, she asked, in a 
most touching manner, " Do you think 
he could, on that sick bed, under so 
much suffering, be born again and go 
to heaven ? I used to pray for him," 
she said, " and read the Bible to hinriy- 
^ - - K3 



O^ (Tp 

S A F E II O M E . 17 



and he was sensible that he could not 
recover." She desired me to be very 
candid in my reply to this question. I 
told her that God was as able to con- 
vert him as He was the poor thief upon 
the cross. Looking into my face, while 
the tears filled those beautiful eyes so 
soon to close in death, she said with 
great earnestness, ''I do not wish to 
put off repentance until my death-bed." 
I bless God for the bright and consoling 
evidence that she did not, and I hum- 
bly pray that, should this narrative fall 
into the hands of any who have not yet 
given their young hearts to Him, they 
will seek the Lord in their youth, and 
with her find him to the joy and re- 
joicing of their souls. She was then 
not quite nine years of age. I asked 



18 SAFE HOME. 



her how long she had been interested 
in tlie solemn truths of God's word. 
'' I always loved to pray, and to attend 
the Sabbath School," she replied; "but 
at my father's death, I promised my 
Sabbath School teacher, who was very 
faithful to me, that I would then give 
my heart to God." 

A few days after tliis conversation, 
Fannie came to me with a very sad 
face. " I have come to ask a very great 
favor of you," she said. I replied, " I 
hope it is one that I shall be able to 
grant you." "I wish," was her answer, 
" that you would talk with my motlier, 
and would ask her if she would be 
ready to die, should she be called away 
as suddenly as was my father ; for I 
have been thinking," she added, " if I 



o 









SAFEHOME. 19 

ever reach heaven, and do not find my 
father there, and mother does not come, 
what sliall I do ? " " You will forever 
praise God that you are so happy as to 
get there yourself," I replied. " Yes," 
she said, " but I shall wish to see my 
dear father and mother there also." I 
related this conversation to her mother, 
who told me many things of the dear 
child, leading us both to feel that she 
was fast ripening for the eternal world. 



tx SuonlJ. 



FANNIE'S LOVE FOR HER BIBLE, FOR RELIGIOUS BOOKS, 
AND FOR CHRISTIAN SOCIETY — THE YOUNG CON- 
VERTS' MEETING — THE SUNDAY SCHOOL CONCERT — 
FANNIE'S PRAYERS FOR OTHERS —HER LOVE FOR 
HER SCHOOLMATES. 

Fannie made the Bible her constant 
study, and seemed to understand it. 
Along with the Bible, her favorite book 
was a narrative of twelve pious chil- 
dren, who died in early youth. As 
often as she read it, she would express 
the hope of meeting, at her death, those 
good and happy children. She always 
preferred religious books to any others, 
and read them apparently with as much 
interest as any advanced Christian. For 






S A F E II O M E . 21 

cliristian society she manifested the 
same preference, and as often as her 
liealtli would allow, embraced every 
opportunity of attending evening meet- 
ings. In the fall of 1853 she attended 
with me a meeting for conference and 
prayer, which she never seemed to for- 
get. There were many young converts 
present, and her sympathy with them 
was seen in her own expressive face and 
tearful eye. On our way home she 
spoke of the meeting as a heavenly 
place; "The converts," said she, "ex- 
pressed my feelings and prayed out my 
secret desires to God, and wdien they 
sang, ' Dear Lord, remember me,' I 
prayed, dear Lord, remember me, and 
something kept whispering in my bosom, 
I do remember thee. Was this," she' 



:Xf^ c r^o 

22 S A F E II O M E . 



asked, ''the Spirit of God?" This 
question opened a wide field of conver- 
sation for me, and I could no longer 
doubt that God was manifesting him- 
self to her as He does not unto the 
world. The same month she attended 
the Sabbath school concert, a privilege 
for which she expressed her gratitude, 
as it might, she thought, be her last. 
So it proved to be. 

I often found her awake late at night. 
One evening, I inquired why she was 
not asleep, it being past eleven o'clock. 
''I have a great deal to think of," she 
replied, ''besides saying the Lord's 
prayer; all the sins of the past day 
come up before me, and I must confess 
them to God and beg for pardon. To- 
night," she added, " I have kept awake 



J\D 



Qi) cr^o 

S A F E HOME. 23 



longer than usual, for I have prayed 
more for my pastor, and for all the 
church and Sabbath school ; I want to 
see a revival, that the children may be 
converted, and that I may be converted 
myself." Before I left her, she re- 
quested me to pray with her for the 
same things. 

Fannie loved her school-mates very 
much, and would often spread her little 
table under the shady trees in the cot- 
tage yard. After partaking of their 
humble meal, she would read and ex- 
plain the Bible to them, and with them 
imite in singing tlieir little hymns. I 
have often listened with surprise to 
these instructions, evincing so great 
maturity of character. One pleasant 
spring day, she told them she would 
e;^ ^3 

0>3 G.'0 



on) c^ 

24 SAFEH0 3IE. 



have the yard fitted up with a flower 
garden, and promised them she would 
have pic-nics and school-meetings there 
every Saturday. It would indeed be 
well if we would all regard the kind 
admonition : " Boast not thyself of 
to-morrow, for thou knowest not what 
a day may bring forth." Little did 
she, or any of us imagine that the 
next June grass would cover her grave, 
and that upon it July flowers would 
blossom. 



, _1 






€]mUx Il]iri. 



FANXIE'S ILL^'ESS — HER SABBATH READING OF THE 
SAVIOUR'S SUFFERINGS AISD DEATH, AND THE CON- 
VERSATION ABOUT THEM — ENCOURAGEMENT TO SUN- 
DAY SCHOOL TEACHERS. 

In tlie winter of 1854, Fannie was 
confined to the house with ilhiess. Un- 
able to attend the Sabbath school or 
church, she read her Bible, and, as far 
as she was able, religious books. She 
seemed very solemn and full of thought. 
One Sabbath morning, when she had 
partially regained her health, slie was 
left at home by her mother. I had 
offered to do anything for lier that she 
desired, and had invited her to sit with 
e.' ^ ¥'3 



26 SAFEHOME. 



me ill her favorite room, hoping that I 
might ascertain the state of her mind, 
as we had not had any conversation 
together for some time. After all had 
gone, I went to her room for her, but 
she expressed a wish to be alone a 
short time, and then, she said, she 
would come up. I waited until nearly 
noon, and then went again for her. I 
found her lying on the lounge, with 
a chair filled with books at her side ; 
her Bible lying open on her bosom, her 
dress and pillow quite, moist, and her 
eyes very red, as if she had been 
weeping some time. I said, " Fannie, 
I do not like to disturb you, and have 
waited a long time before coming for 
you." " I was so much interested in 
reading my Bible," she replied, " that 

?^ 



(TO 



S A F E II O M E . 27 



I concluded not to come." " And what 
part of the good book has my little 
girl been reading? " I asked. She burst 
into tears as she said, "I have been 
reading about the sufferings of the 
dear Saviour in the garden and upon 
the cross. Oh, those cruel tliorns, how 
they must have hurt his temples ! 
How could they be so wicked! how 
could he hang so long upon the cross 
and then call upon his Father to for- 
give them ! And all this he suffered 
for me! I wish I had never been a 
sinner. I hope I shall never sin again ; 
I never will, if I can help it." In this 
way, she talked for some time, express- 
ing deep penitence for her sins, and 
humble faith in her dying Lord and 
Saviour. I felt that I was on holy 



y^ 



28 S AF E H O M E, 



grouiid, and that my words should be 
few. Christ was working hke himself, 
verifying his own promises: ''If I go 
away, I will send the Comforter, even 
the Spirit of Truth, whom the world 
cannot receive:" and "when He, the 
Spirit of Truth, is come. He will guide 
you into all truth." He was doubtless 
leading her, young as she was, into all 
truth. The dear child had been alone, 
as she had wished, during these hours ; 
and yet not alone, for heavenly com- 
pany had been with her, and had made 
her chamber bright and holy with their 
presence. It seemed to me that I saw, 
with the eye of faith, Jacob's ladder, 
and the angels of God ascending and 
descending upon it. Why not? Are 
they not all ministering spirits, sent 






S A F E H O M E . 29 

forth to minister for them who shall 
be heirs of salvation ! And the dear 
Saviour said: "There is joy in the 
presence of the angels in Heaven over 
one sinner that repenteth." Perhaps 
at this moment, 

*' Command was to some seraph given, 
To seal that child an heir of Heaven." 

I told her she was in a holy place ; that 
God's Spirit was with her, applying to 
her heart the truth of His Word, and 
revealing to her the way of life and 
salvation through the sufferings of His 
well beloved Son. I did not like to 
intrude upon her sacred joy, and said 
I would leave her. She reached out 
her little feeble arm, and drew me to- 
wards her to kiss me, saying, "I love 



-K9 






30 SAFEH0 3IE. 

you and everybody else." As I walked 
through the room, God's word to Moses 
came to my mind: "Put off thy shoes 
from off thy feet, for the place whereon 
thou standest is holy ground." I re- 
tired to her favorite room, where her 
father died, to thank my Heavenly 
Father for redeeming grace and dying 
love, and to mourn that my own heart 
was so hard, while that of the dear 
child I had left was melted, as David i 
says, like wax within her. I did not j 
tell her mother, or any one, how we : 
had spent that Sabbath morning ; but i 
I was satisfied that this sweet child was 
truly converted, and knew then what 
it was to pass from death unto life, if 
she had never known it before. I 
knew time would make all things man- 






S A F E II O 31 E . 31 



ifcst. Let me licre say a word to the 
Sabbath school teacher. Behold the 
blesshig of God on your labors. Thank 
Him, take courage, and press forward. 
He has promised to bless the teachings 
of His Word even to the end of time. 
Fannie partially recovered from this 
sickness, and soon left home on a visit. 
I missed her very much, and con- 
stantly prayed for her, that she might 
be kept by the power of God through 
faith unto salvation. Sometimes I 
thought I would inform some of the 
church or Sabbath school of the secret 
workings of God's Spirit with one of 
their number, but her childlike re- 
quest, "never tell any one what I say 
to you," deterred me. She seemed 
unwilling that winter to confide in any 



32 SAFEHOME. 



one but me, and I felt that I was of 
all the most unfit and unworthy to be 
her counsellor, or to lead her to God. 
But He knew all about it, and adapted 
His mercies to her special necessities. 






e-i - ^ 



PA:XNIE'S love for the SU>'DAY school — HER JOY 
AT THE GIFT OP A BIBLE — HER MEETIIS'GS WITH 
CHILDREN — THE FAMILY BIBLE AND THE RECORD 
TO BE PUT IX IT. 

Unable to go out during the severe 
winter, Fannie was denied the kind 
instructions of the Sabbath school at a 
time wlien she most needed them, and 
many a cold stormy Sabbath morning 
have I seen the tears streaming down 
her little pale cheeks, as she saw she 
must remain at home. On the return 
of Spring, she commenced attending 
school again. A Bible was tlien pre- 
e)« ^ 



g^- 



34 S A F E H O M E . 

sGiited her, and I shall never forget the 
look of delight with which she came 
running to show it to me. Nothing- 
could have pleased her better, and 
night and day it was her constant com- 
panion. Though much improved in 
liealth, her mother often expressed the 
foar that the dear child was not long 
for this world, so great a change had 
come over her. She was perfectly 
obedient, very serious, and diligent to 
improve every moment to the best ad- 
vantage. Her mind seemed ever to 
soar upwards. She would gather all 
tlie children of the neighborhood about 
her, and ''play meeting" with them, so 
that she might have an opportunity of 
talking with them about God and 
heaven, and the need of a preparation 



:^3 






S A F E II O M E . 35 

for the judgment. As she was looking 
at the record of deaths in my Bible 
one day, she observed, "You have lost 
nearly all your family." I said yes, 
and I wished she would be my little 
girl, for I was very lonely. Opening 
the Bible again, she replied, "You can 

record my death here, Mrs. S , 

when I am gone, and you may write 
a verse under it." " Why do you 
make that request, my child," I asked, 
"when you are so well and able to go 
to school ? " " Oh, I shall never live to 
grow up," was her reply, "and when 
I am gone, record my death here," 
pointing to the place; — "and what 
verse will you write?" "What death 
will Fannie die, — the death of the 
righteous?" "Oh, yes," she promptly 



36 SAFEHOME. 

answered, ''I hope so." " Well, then, 
I will write these lines : 

^ My flesh shall slumher in the ground 
Till the last trump of God shall sound ; 
Then hurst the tomb in sweet surprise, 
And in my Saviour's image rise.' " 

''That would be just what I would 
write," she replied. I expressed the 
hope that I might not be called to 
record her death there or any where 
else ; that she might live to grow up 
and be a blessing to her mother, the 
church, and the world ; but she made 
me promise, should she be taken away, 
that I would comfort her mother all I 
could for her sake. "Write," she said, 
''what I say when I die, and let the 
children know about it." 






€\mUx liftl]. 



FANNIE IS ILL AGAIN, AND IS TAKEN FROM SCHOOL — 
TALKS WITH IlKIl MOTHER ABOUT DYING — BEGS ME 
TO COMFORT HEll MOTHER, WHEN SHE IS GONE — 
'' THY WILL BE DONE " — HER JOY AT THE PROS- 
PECT OF HEAVEN — HER DESIRE FOR MORE FAITH. 

Not many weeks from this time, 
Faiiiiie began to fail, owing, as we 
tlioiiglit, to her very close application 
to her studies. She was taken from 
scliool again, but grew more feeble, 
and a physician was called in. He 
gave us but little hope of her recovery, 
and thought she was threatened with 
brain fever. The thought of giving 
her up so soon was too painful, and we 
(p'7 ^^ 



: cnc 

38 S A F E 11 O M E . 

consulted another physician, but he 
gave us no encouragement. Sorrow 
filled all our hearts; but what could 
we do ? We could only pray and hope 
for the best. All she had ever said 
to me about dying came fresh to my 
mind, and the tears with it. I found 
I had indeed loved her as my own 
child. I said nothing to her about 
death; but she did not wait for us to 
break the solemn subject to her ; she 
calmly took that upon herself. 

A few days after her confinement to 
her bed, her mother came to my room, 
and told me that Fannie had been talk- 
ing to her about dying. "Oh, how 
can I," she said, '^bear the thought of 
losing my only child!'' I went down 
and asked the little sufferer how she 
e^ Kd 



S A F E II O M E . 39 



Avas. ''I expect/' she replied, "that 
God is going to take me home soon, 
and I want you to be very kind to my 
dear mother, when I am gone ; do all 
you can to comfort her, she will be left 
so very lonely." " Do you feel willing, 
Fannie, to go?" I asked. ''Oh, yes! 
all but leaving poor dear mother all 
alone," was her reply. " Do tlie best 
you can when she is so sad, and don't 
cry when she does, but say to her, Lit- 
tle Fannie is in heaven now, and we 
will get ready to go and meet her 
there." I said to her, "I do not feel 
willing to give you up myself; how 
can I comfort your mother?" Apn 
parently much surprised, she asked, 
" When you pray, do you say, ' Thy 
will be done in earth as it is in 
-^ — KS 



3^- 



. CTiP 

40 S A F E II O M E • 

heaven? ' '' I told her I prayed in that 
way. " Wellj then, do you mean what 
yon say? if you do not," she added, 
"never pray so again. If you are 
not willing that God's will should be 
done in all things, you can never go 
to heaven, for there will be none in 
heaven who were not conformed to the 
will of God on earth." I asked her to 
pray for me, that I might be enabled 
to bow in submission to God's will, 
and she promised me that she would. 
To lose her myself, and to see her poor 
mother so bereaved seemed, I told her, 
like taking away the strings that bound 
around my heart. " God knows what 
is for the best," she replied. " I had 
better be taken away than my mother ; 
she would have a mother, but I should 






SAFE HOME. 41 



be left a ])oor little ori)]Km girl, not old 
enougli to get my living." I inquired 
if she had no desire to live? The 
world, I told her, seemed beautiful to 
children generally at her age, who 
had not felt the thorn with the rose. 
''Yes," she said; ''but I am poor, and 
the poor, yon know the Bible says, 
is despised by his neighbor." "Well, 
would you like to live and be rich?" 
"Oh no, no indeed!" she replied, Avith 
earnestness ; " that would take my heart 
all from my Saviour. The rich do not 
think much about God, only a very 
few of them." " If you could l)e in just 
comfortable circumstances," 1 asked, 
" would you not like to grow uj) and en- 
joy life and religion also?" She closed 
her eyes for some time, then opening 
(^ — K3 



^jO 

—^ 

42 S A F E H O M E . 

tliem, witli a sweet smile, she said, " I 
have tlioiiglit a great deal about my 
dear Saviour, and liave ])rayed to Him 
a great many times. I trust He has 
forgiven me my sins, yes, all my sins. 
I have never seen Him, but I love 
Him, and I want to see Him. I want 
to go and live in His bosom. I shall 
go right to His bosom when I die." 

The next day Fannie continued this 
conversation. ^'I am glad," she said, 
" that I am poor, for by nature I am 
very proud, and if I were to live long, 
I fear I should lose my soul." I re- 
mirided her of the apostle's words : 
'' Hath not God chosen the poor of this 
world rich in faith, and heirs of His 
kingdom." ''Yes," she said, "that is 
what I wish to get hold of, more faith. 






(TO 



S A F E II O M E . 43 

I have a little, but I want to be rich in 
faith, for sometimes I think I have not 
cnongh to save me." I begged her 
not to give way to doubts and fears, 
just as she was almost in sight of tlie 
heavenly city. God, I told her, would 
give her all the faith she needed, and 
every other christian grace, if she 
would look to Him for it. As her 
body grew weaker, her mind might 
not continue as clear and strong as 
it had been, but God, I assured her, 
never changed. She must not fear, 
but look right to the dear Saviour. 
He would shield her from all tlie fiery 
darts of tlie enemy, and make all 
her bed in her sickness. Tliinking it 
might be a great comfort if one or 
more of her christian friends Avould 






44 S A F E II O M E . 



come and pray with her, I inquired 
if she would not Hke to see some of 
the church or Sabbath school that 
she knew and loved. She expressed a 
wish to see^ her pastor and Sabbath 
school teaclier, but they were both out 
of the city. We sent for Mr. and 

Mrs. D , but before they came, her 

strength began to fail very much, and 
her mind to wander, though at times 
reason would return, and she would 
be very bright for some time. 






(TO 



THE ''TfEW TENEMENT,*' AND THE "NEW JERUSALEM*' 
— THE BEAUTIFUL ANGEL, AND THE ANSWER TO 
PRAYER — SUBMISSION TO GOD'S WILL — FAANIES 
DESIRE THAT HER DEATH MAY BE BLESSED TO 
CHILDREN — HER MESSAGES TO HER SUNDAY SCHOOL 
TEACHER AND CLASS — BIBLE READINGS WITH FAN- 
NIE. 

About ten days before her death, 
her mother told me Fannie liad been 
praying a long time for the Sabbath 
school. As I sat beside her one even- 
ing, she inquired, " Why are you so 
unwilling to give me up?" I told her 
that since we had moved into our new 
tenement, so much nearer her Sabbath 
school, I had anticipated much pleas- 






c^x 



46 SAFEHOME. 

ure ill attending evening meetings with 
her, if her health would permit. '' I 
shall soon move into a new tenement," 
she replied, "one strong, large, and 
beautiful, large enough for you all ; 
you will not need to fit that up as you 
have this. It is all ready for you, and 
when once in it, you will never have 
to move out." " Has it golden streets 
and gates of pearl? I asked." " Yes." 
" Well, then, Fannie, it must be the city 
of the New Jerusalem." With a smile, 
she said, " I thought you would know 
where it was. There will be no sick- 
ness there, nor sorrow, nor sin, nor 
death. But before I go, I shall pray 
that God will take care of you, and 
comfort your hearts when I am gone, 
and fit and prepare you to meet me in 



(DO 



SAFE no M E . 47 

my new home, which is in heaven." 
Turning to me, she asked, ''Do you 
expect to come there ? " " Yes," I saiel, 
A>dtli great emphasis. She replied, '' 13e 

sure, Mrs. S , to bring my mother 

witli you." Then earnestly looking up 
again, she exclaimed, " Oh, liow I want 
to see all my schoolmates and teachers 
there, and all the Sabbath school!" 

Fannie suffered very much with her 
head, but was very patient, often ask- 
ing if she was patient enough. A few 
days before her death, as I entered her 
room, she was talking, as if address- 
ing some one, saying, " Yes, I will 
come ; I am coming soon." " To 
wliom is Fannie talking?" I inquired. 
" I know," she replied. " Were you 
asleep?" ''Oh no." " To wliom, then. 



o^ 



48 SAFEHOME. 



were you saying, ' I will come ? ' " "To 
that beautiful angel," she replied, " that 
stood at the foot of my bed and beck- 
oned me to come ; did you not see 
him?" I told her I did not, but I 
had felt a very solemn sensation come 
over me, as I entered the room. " Do 
angels ever \dsit sick rooms," she in- 
quired. I told her doubtless they 
often did, but were seldom seen by 
mortal eyes. " I have been afraid," 
she said, " that I should lose heaven at 
last." " How can you," I asked, " in- 
dulge such fears, when God has given 
you so abundant evidence that you are 
His, and that you will be with Him in 
those blessed mansions, which he has 
gone to prepare for those that love 
Him ? Why do you fear that you shall 

— _,__ ,_ _z =z=zgx3 



Qi) 



S A F E II O :M E . 



49 



lose heaven?" "I was very proud,'' 

she replied, ''of the new bonnet wliicli 
I had la.st ilill. All the way to SaV 
bath school, I was tliinking how pretty 
I looked in it, and I liopcd my school- 
mates would think f-o. I thought more 
about it that morning tlian I did of 
my lesson. Oh, how wicked I was. 
I have been praying for God to forgive 
me, and I had to pray a great many 
times before lie licard me." '' Di 
you feci, my dear child," I asked, 
" that Ho has lieard and foririven 
you?" ''Yes," she replied, "I felt 
better, and it was then I tliouglit I 
saw that beautiful angel. I ]ioi)e God 
sent liim to tell me tliat I was for- 
given, and could soon come to Him. 
I am glad He is going to take me. I 



G'O 






50 S A F E H O 31 E . 

do not wish to live any longer in this 
proud, wicked world. I am afraid I 
should grow proud and forget my Sa- 
viour." I told her God was able to 
keep her from falling, and that she 
might live to do a great deal of good 
in the world. " If (xod wishes me to 
live," she rei)lied, " He can raise me 
up again ; if he does not, I hope my 
death may be the means of doing 
good." " In what way may your death 
do good?" I asked. ''You know," 
she said, ''how much I love all the 
children, and how much tliey love me; 
when I am gone, they will know that 
they can never see me again in this 
world, and I hope they will get ready 
to meet me where we shall never more 
part. Yes, I do hope they will remem- 



SAFE HOME, 



51 



ber that they must die, and so will 
seek the Saviour. I want my teacher 
to be faithful to them, when I am 
gone." At another time, as we were 
talking about pride, I inquired if she 
thought the sin she committed in being 
proud of her new bonnet would have 
kept her out of heaven. " Yes, in- 
deed," she replied, "if I had not from 
my heart repented of it." 

Twice of a Sabbath morning, before 
her death, Fannie expressed the hope 
that her teaclier and class would not 
forget her, when she was laid in the 
cold gi'ave. " I want you," she said, 
"to take my new Bible, and go to 
my class, and ask my teacher to let 
you sit where I sat. You must talk to 
the girls about me, and tell them Fan- 






52 S A F E H O M E . 

nie loved them on earth, and will love 
them ill heaven. I should like to come 
there, some Sabbath morning, like an 
angel, and they not know it, and hover 
over them while they are attending to 
their lesson. But I do not wish them 
to weep because I liave gone to my 
Saviour. If I thought they Avould, I 
should want to sing to them, 

^ Shed not a tear o'er your friend's early bier; 
Weep not for her when she's gone.' " 

About tliis time Fannie greatly re- 
vived and seemed to wish to talk all 
the time, as if she felt that slie liad a 
great deal to say, and but a little while 
to say it in. She would talk to her 
watchers, although they could not al- 
ways understand what she said. One 









S A F E no M E . 



53 



morning I found lier in tears, and 
inquired what was tlie matter. " 0, 

Mrs. S ," she replied, '^ there is 

poor Fannie's Bible. I have just had 
it laid on tlie bed, my dear new Bible. 
I can only look at it. I shall never 
read it again. I did love to read it 
when I could see, but now I cannot 
distinguish one word from another." 
I asked her if she was able to listen to 
me. " Yes," she said, " I wish you 
would read, and speak low and dis- 
tinctly, so that I can understand you." 
I inquired if she had a preference for 
any particular chapter. " No," she 
said, "it is all so good, you may read 
the first place at whicli you open." I 
opened at 2 Cor. v. : " We know, that 
if our carthlv house of this tabernacle 



54 S A F E II O M E . 

were dissolved, we have a building of 
God, a house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens." " That is 
just right for me!" she exclaimed;" 
"will you please read the whole chap- 
ter?" 









(Clp^ttr Stljtntl]. 



PAN^^E'S BODILY 8rFFERI>"GS, A^'D >rE>'TAL JOY — 
SHE PAILS RAPIDLY — BEGS HER MOTHER TO BE 
WILLING TO GIVE HER UP — MY LAST CONVERSA- 
TION WITH F.ANNIE — RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS IN 
HEAVEN, AND THE RESURRECTION. 



The next day, as Fannie had her 
reason, I read the last three chapters 
of the Revelation to her. She seemed 
mucli interested in them, and expressed 
her desire to get to that happy place, 
where, she said, "there is no sickness 
or pain, and where poor Fannie's 
head will not ache so bad." " Does 
Little Fannie suffer very much," I 



-K3 
G«0 



6^1 



56 S A F E H O M E . 

asked. ''Oh, yes," she replied; "I 
am going home no^r as fast as I can ; 
but the way is not so easy, I can tell 
you, for my poor head tells for it at 
every step." She would often exclaim: 
"Oh, my head, my j^oor head! now, 
mother, it is breaking ; it will come in 
two." Then she would pray for pa- 
tience to bear it. It was very distress- 
ing to Avitness her sufferings, and yet 
not be able to alleviate them. Her 
head became very large ; also the pu- 
pils of her eyes were enlarged. Often 
she could not see for hours together, 
and seemed to be cjuite unconscious; 
then again, she would revive, and be 
very bright. A few days before her 
death, as her consciousness returned, 
after one of these attacks, she told lier 






(TNO 



SAFE no M E . 



57 



mother that she had been in a hcanti- 
ful sleep, and had heard the s^vcotoLt 
music ; " Oh, sweet and beautiful mu- 
sic ! it was heavenly," she said, turning 
to me ; " if you had heard it you 
would never have wanted to come back 
to earth again." 

From this time Fannie failed ra;> 
idly, and we found we must bid adieu 
to the last ray of hope of her ever 
being any better. She seemed to realize 
that she could not live many more 
days and suffer as much as she liad 
done, and begged her mother to please 
to give her up. " If it was you, dear 
mother, that suffered so much," she 
said, " I would rather part with you, 
althougli the loss Avould be so great." 
Then calling her mother and grand- 



cyo 



9-^ (TO 

58 S A F E II O M E . 

mother to her bedside, she begged their 
forgiveness for all she had ever said or 
done that was wrong, expressing her 
fears that she had sometimes been dis- 
obedient, and had spoken unkindly to 
those she loved so much, and who had 
always been so good to her. She 
made the same request of a little play- 
mate who was in the room. " I have 
always loved you," she said, " but in 
our play we have sometimes used words 
that, are not so good. I want you to 
forgive me, and seek the Saviour, so 
that you may be prepared to meet me 
in heaven, where there will be no more 
partings." Requesting her mother to 
get her dress ready, she told her she 
was going away where she would never 
come back again to her. To her aunt, 






S A F E HOME. 



59 






who came to watch with her, she ex- 
pressed the fear that her patience 
would not hold out, if she lived much 
longer. On being told to put her trust 
in Him who suffered so much more for 
her than she could ever suffer, she 
replied, " I do, Aunty, try to trust in 
Him, and I think I do." 

As I sat beside the little sufferer one 
day, she asked, " Do you think we 
shall know each other in heaven?" 
I replied that Moses and Elias were 
known by the disciples, upon the holy 
mount, and I thought we should both 
know and be known. " I sometimes," 
she said, "dread to be laid away in 
the cold grave ; and how am I to have 
two homes, one in heaven, and one in 
the cold earth?" " If little Fannie 



-2^ 



60 S A F E IJ O M E . 

dies," I replied, "she must be laid 
where the dear Saviour was laid. She 
will be willing to go where Jesus went. 
Some kind guardian angel may be 
commissioned to watch the precious 
dust, until the bright resurrection 
morning, when the archangel's trump 
shall sound, and aAvake the nations 
sleeping beneath the cold clods of the 
yalley. Then little Fannie will rise 
again. It will be this same little 
Fannie Kenyon, with dark blue eyes, 
and dark brown hair; only you Avill 
have a glorified body, made immortal. 
Yes, this poor little worn out and sick 
body will then be made like the dear 
Saviour's. It will outshine the sun 
at noonday. Your spirit will go to 
God who gave it. You have expressed 






SAFE no M E , 



61 



the hope that you will go right to the 
Saviour's bosom when you die ; but be 
not afraid, my dear child, to be laid in 
the grave. As Jesus rose from the 
dead, and has become the first fruits 
of them that slept, so shall all His 
church be raised. The prophet says: 
' The earth shall cast out her dead, 
and no more cover her slain. Awake 
and sing, ye that dwell in dust.' And 
again : ^ God will ransom them from 
the power of the grave.' " Looking at 
some flowers beside her, she asked, 
" Will there be flowers on the New 
Earth ? " " Yes, my child," I replied, 
" when God restores through Christ 
what Adam lost ; when He creates the 
New Heavens and the New Earth, of 
which Isaiah speaks, and to which 









62 SAFEH0 3IE. 

Peter refers in his epistle, and which 
was seen in vision by John, I think 
there will be flowers there without 
thorns. Then the morning stars will 
again sing together, and all the sons 
of God shout for joy. Then He will 
make the place of His feet glorious, 
and they will all know Him, from the 
least to the greatest. Then shall the 
righteous shine forth, and the whole 
world be filled with his glory. Then 
we shall see the dear Saviour, who 
died for us, whom not having seen we 
love, and we shall see as we are seen, 
and know each other. Does Fannie 
now understand ? " With a face radi- 
ant with joy, she smiled, and bowed 
her head. Then taking my hand, she 
said, " There will be no more partings 









SAFE HOME, 



63 



then." "Xo," I replied, "that will 
be Paradise regained ; tliat Avill be the 
kingdom promised to the little flock of 
every age, as seen by St. John in vis- 
ion, to the mnltitude which no man 
could numl)er. I read to her 1 Cor. 
XV., and asked her if she understood 
clearly the plan of salvation, and that 
Christ died to redeem man, both soul 
and body. This earth, I told her, 
which now groans under the curse, 
will be redeemed and brouglit back to 
its Eden state, and be the final abode 
of the saints. Then, as we rise from 
the grave, we shall shout: '0 death, 
where is thy sting? grave, where 
is thy victory?' Then little Fannie's 
soul and body will again be united. 
' For if we believe that Jesus died and 






=K3 



op G)0 

G>5 ^ 

64 S A F E II O M E . 



rose again, even so them also wliicli 
sleep in Jesus will God bring with 
Him.' He is the resurrection and the 
life. Our life is hid with Christ in 
God, and when He who is our life 
shall appear, tlien shall we also appear 
with him in glory. Is this plain to 
Fannie?" I asked. ^' Yes," she said, 
^'it is all beautiful; but I am so glad I 
am not always to lie in the cold grave, 
for the worms to feast upon ; I hope the 
trumpet that is to wake the dead will 
soon sound." My soul responded: 

Oh, long expected day begin ; 

Dawn on these realms of pain and sin." 

This was the last conversation of any 
length that I ever had with Fannie. 
At the time, I felt that it might be so. 






S A F E HOME, 



65 



(r\o 



and for this reason, I was very particu- 
lar to answer all her questions, accord- 
ing to my knowledge of the Word of 
God, knowing that we both should soon 
stand before the Judge of the whole 
earth, when the secrets of all hearts 
will be made known. 



-K3 

GO 



CTip 



FAKKIE SENDS HER PLAYTHINGS TO A LITTLE FRIEND, 
AVITH MESSAGES — THE WEEPING CHILDREN, AND 
THE FLOWERS — FANNIE'S LAST WORDS — HER 
DEATH. 

Patient and calm, as the setting 
sun of a summer's eve, Fannie con- 
tinued to droop away like a sweet 
flower. She requested her playthings 
to be given to the little friend she 
loved so dearly. " Tell her," she said, 
^^when she plays with them, to think 
of the happy hours we have spent to- 
gether, that I have gone to my Saviour 
now, and she must prepare to meet me 
in heaven." Her mind wandered much 






r^ 



SAFE no M E . 



67 



of the time for the last few days. If 
she noticed anything, it was the little 
weeping cliildren, who were often at 
her bedside with their little presents 
and flowers, which were ever her de- 
light. They would place their pretty 
white roses in her hands, and she 
would hold them until they wilted, 
although she appeared not to see or 
smell them. Beautiful flowers ! fit 
emblems of her svreet innocence and 
decaying beauty. 

Fannie's physician thought her brain 
was now entirely covered with tuber- 
cles, and that her lungs were almost 
gone. She must indeed have been a 
much sicker child for some time than 
any one had supposed, for her poor 
little body was quite worn out. The 






68 SAFEHOME. 

last words that fell from her lips, which 
I could understand, were : " Remem- 
ber my poor dear mother. It is not 
two years since my father's death, and 
now she must lose me. How hard 
it will be for her to be left so lonely ! 
comfort her all you can, and all of you 
prepare to meet me in heaven.'' 

On the evening of the 25th of June, 
1854, at the close of a day of great 
suffering, this sweet child calmly 
breathed out her spirit upon her Sa- 
viour's bosom, aged ten years, four 
months and eleven days. 

" Blest is the scene where Christians die, 
"When holy souls retire to rest ; 
How mildly beams the closing eye ! 

How gently heaves the expiring breast ! 



S A F E II O M E . 69 

So fades a summer cloud away ; 

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ; 
So gently shuts the eye of day ; 

So dies a wave upon the shore. 

Triumphant smiles the victor's brow, 
Fanned by some guardian angel's wing ; 

O grave, where is thy victory now. 

And where, death, where is thy sting ? " 



0C3 



G^: 



^la^ter i^intlj. 



THE FRIENDSHIP OP CHRISTIAN CHILDHOOD, AND ITS 
LESSO^'S — FANNIE'S DEATH, IN ITS INFLUENCE UPON 
CHILDREN. 

It became my painful duty to close 
those once bright beaming eyes, whose 
light had so often cheered my heart, 
but which are now cold in the embrace 
of death. I bless God for the inter- 
course which I had with this sweet 
christian child, and for the joyful hope 
of meeting again one so dear to my 
heart, in that bright world, where all 
tears shall be wiped from our eyes, and 
where there will be no more sickness 






S A F E H O M E . 71 

or deatli. She is gone. I sliall not 
see her gentle smile again, until the 
trumpet of God and the voice of the 
archangel shall call her forth from her 
dusty bed. The cold wind sweeps over 
her little grave, and the snow covers 
the mouldering dust of one who would 
have cheered with her sweet smiles and 
heavenly conversation each lonely and 
sad hour. But I would not call her 
back to this world of sin, which she 
left so willingly, triumphing in tlie 
blessed hope of a glorious immortahty 
beyond the grave. God alone knows 
how much I feel her loss. With her 
afflicted mother and dearest friends I 
mingle my tears. With me, she spent 
many leisure moments, ever confiding 
in me, and drawing my mind from 



1^3 



72 S A F E H O M E . 

tilings earthly to things heavenly and 
divine. Sweet is the friendship of 
childhood, and still dearer when sweet- 
ened by divine grace. Though a child, 
she taught me many a valuable lesson, 
never, I trust, to be forgotten. One 
great duty she left binding upon me, 
which I hope I may ever remember, — 
always to pray for her Sabbath school, 
and to urge her dearest friends to pre- 
pare to meet her in heaven. God 
grant that her death may be the means 
of doing good, as she so much desired, 
and of leading many of the Sabbath 
school unto Him, who calls them early 
to His arms. May they remember that 
little Fannie's Saviour still stands with 
outstretched arms, waiting to receive 
all that will come unto Him; and 



SAFE HOME. 



tliougli tills dear friend lias faded in 
her early bloom, the path she wished 
them to tread is still open to them. 
May they follow her as she followed 
the dear Saviour, and at last be so 
happy as to meet in that blessed world, 

" Where congregations ne'er break up, 
And Sabbaths never end." 






%\t fast 3mL 

The day had gone in sadness, 

The sable veil of night 
Was drawn, but brought no gladness : 

It came our joy to blight. 
All hushed in solemn silence, 

We stood beside her bed. 
And watched the child, in patience. 

Recline her fainting head 
On the dear Saviour's bosom. 

In faith and humble prayer ; 
And slow the last pulsation 

Beat, while she lingered there. 
O, blessed child ! how sweetly 

She slept in Jesus' arms ; 
Death strove in vain completely 

To steal all beauty's charms ; 



SAFE H O 31 E . 



75 



A heavenly smile was resting 

Upon that brow so fair ; 
No sorrow was molesting 

That bosom free from care. 
'T is true our eyes were weeping, 

Our hearts with grief were torn ; 
For her who now lay sleeping, 

We could not cease to mourn. 
But sweet the Holy Spirit 

Came whispering to each heart, 
The world you will inherit. 

Is where death ne'er can part ; 
The dead in Christ triumphant, 

Shall rise with crowns of gold. 
And fill those blessed mansions, 

All glorious to behold. 
No night, nor pain, nor sorrow, 

Shall ever enter there ; 
On that fast-coming morrow, 

All will be bright and fair ; — 






76 S A F E II O M E . 

We long to have it hasten; 

We hail our coming King, 
Who, from death's gloomy regions 

Our sleeping friends will bring. 
We long to see salvation 

Triumphant o'er the tomb, 
And see the new creation 

In Eden's beauty bloom. 






jm 



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THE BIBLE AND THE CLOSET. Edited by Rev. J. O. Choules, 
THE FA:MILY altar ; or, the Duty, Benefits, and Mode of 
conducting Family Worship. 

THE FAMILY CIRCLE ; its Affections and Pleasures. By Rev. 
H, A. Graves. 

THE MARRIAGE RING ; or, How to Make Home Happy. By 

Rev. J. A. James. 
THE CASKET OF JEWELS ; for Young Christians. By James, 

Edwmds, and Harris. 
THE ACTIVE CHRISTIAN; from -m-itings of John Harris, D.D. 
DAILY MANNA, for Christian Pilgrims. By Rev. Baron Stow. 
THE CYPRESS WREATH ; a Book of Consolation for those who 

Mourn. Edited by Rev. Rufus W. Griswold. 
THE YOUNG COMMUNICANT ; an Aid to the Right Under- 
standing and Spiritual Improvement of the Lord's Supper. 
LYRIC GEMS ; a Collection of Original and Select Sacred Poetry. 

Edited by Rev. S. F. Smith. 
THE MOURNER'S CHAPLET ; an Offering of Sympathy for 

Bereaved Friends. Selected from Amerioan Poets by J. Keese. 
THE ATTRACTIONS OF HEAVEN. Edited by H. A. Graves. 

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THE SILENT COMFORTER ; a Companion for the Sick Room. 

By Louisa Paj'son Hopkins. 

GOLDEN GE:MS, for the Christian. Selected from the writings of 
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